


for all of my life

by nemaria



Series: sweet talks [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Roleplay, Weddings, background dimiclaude, major dorogrid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemaria/pseuds/nemaria
Summary: At Ingrid and Dorothea's wedding, Felix comes to an important realization.(for Sylvix Week 2020 - wedding, PDA, warmth, promises)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: sweet talks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934110
Comments: 19
Kudos: 78
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	1. Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write a one-shot to save my life, so this fic combines four prompts for Sylvix Week:
> 
> Day 1 - wedding  
> Day 2 - PDA  
> Day 4 - warmth  
> Day 5 - promises
> 
> It's also set in the same universe as [You Know I Talk Too Much](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191538) \- you don't need to read it first to know what's going on in this, but if you're interested in how Sylvain and Felix got together, give it a look! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Thanks so much to the lovely [Magpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieCrown) for betaing this! Go check out their [amazing artworks on twitter](https://twitter.com/royalcorvids) too!!

It’s the night before Dorothea and Ingrid’s wedding, and Sylvain can’t sleep.

He keeps shifting slightly, jostling Felix awake. From where he’s draped against Sylvain’s side, Felix can hear every time his heartbeat and breathing pick up.

It’s not unusual for Sylvain to have trouble sleeping, and he does have to give a speech tomorrow, so Felix figures it’s probably just public speaking jitters and the pressure of not messing up on their friends’ big day.

Still.

Felix has been pulling Sylvain a little closer every time he gets woken up, but it doesn’t seem to be helping, and it’s got to be at least 3 am by now. They’ll both be exhausted tomorrow if this keeps up.

Rubbing his thumb along Sylvain’s bare side to get his attention, Felix mumbles, “Can hear you thinking. S’too noisy.”

Sylvain starts, apparently not realizing Felix was awake. “Oh – sorry, Fe. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’fine. What’s bothering you?”

“It’s…I’m probably just being dumb.” Sylvain’s arm tightens around him as he hesitates for a moment. “Just…nervous, I guess.”

Felix turns his head to press a kiss to Sylvain’s chest. “You’re going to do great.”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean the speech.”

Wait – what is Sylvain nervous about if not the speech?

Felix tries to ask, but his half-asleep brain is too slow to get the words out before Sylvain starts shifting beneath him, scooting further down the bed and depriving Felix of using his chest as a pillow.

“I must admit, your confidence in me is inspiring,” Sylvain says. Felix can hear the grin in his voice – and then he can feel it against his lips as Sylvain kisses him, soft and slow and sweet.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, tangled up in each other, pressing their lips together over and over – Sylvain’s broad hands smoothing up and down Felix’s back, one of Felix’s hands cupping Sylvain’s jaw and the other buried in his hair.

Eventually, they pull apart just enough to breathe, and Sylvain rests his forehead against Felix’s.

Felix can’t help but breathe a soft “love you” into the space between them – the intimacy of the gesture still overwhelms him, no matter how many times they’ve held each other like this.

“I love you too,” Sylvain whispers. “So much.”

His breathing is coming slower now, and he feels soft and relaxed under Felix’s hands, so Felix figures it’s safe to press the issue of sleeping once again. “Now can we go to bed.”

Sylvain huffs a laugh. “Hmm. You strike a hard bargain, but I suppose I have to accept…on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“Hold me?” It comes out as a question – as if Felix would ever deny him.

“Next time just move me where you want me,” he says, scooting into position. “You don’t have to ask.”

Almost immediately, Sylvain attaches himself to Felix’s side, nuzzling into his chest, and Felix wraps both arms tightly around him. Determined to provide as much comfort as he can, he threads a hand into Sylvain’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp – but he can only keep it up for a few minutes before he’s drifting off, falling asleep to the sound of Sylvain’s soft, even breaths.

—

It’s a big wedding.

Neither Ingrid nor Dorothea have much in the way of blood-related family members – or at least those who are supportive – but the sheer size of the crowd is a testament to the strength of their friendships and found family. There must be at least a hundred people, maybe closer to two hundred. Felix finds the whole thing a little overwhelming – he’s been to plenty of fancy business events for work, but this is on a whole new level.

The hall is completely decked out in flowers and streamers, and white petals seem to be appearing from somewhere near the ceiling, gently floating down towards the sea of guests. The aisle is lined with even more flowers, creating a colorful path to the wedding arch at the front of the room, which is also woven of flowers and greenery. Hopefully no one is allergic to pollen.

There’s a microphone set up near the arch that makes Felix suspect singing will be involved, and a perfectly wrapped little gift on each and every chair. To top it all off, an orchestra – a full orchestra! – is playing soft yet lively music in the corner of the room.

Everything is beautiful and ridiculously lavish. Felix wonders, not for the first time, how Ingrid and Dorothea had managed to plan this – let alone afford it – in such a short period of time.

Not that Felix would know how this kind of thing usually works. But Glenn and Holst have been engaged for more than two years now, and they’re still holding off on setting a date until they’ve amassed enough savings for (presumably) a year-long honeymoon.

Felix sighs, feeling his energy draining already, even though the ceremony hasn’t started yet and Sylvain isn’t even back from parking the car. There’s no point in subjecting himself to mandatory socializing without Sylvain, so Felix just leans against the wall to observe the crowd while he waits.

He already knows neither of Ingrid’s parents will be here, but Felix is pleasantly surprised to spot three of her brothers in the crowd. It might be too much to hope that all six of them will show, but he does anyway – Ingrid deserves the support.

Most of the guests are people he doesn’t recognize, but he’s pretty sure that’s because Dorothea invited almost everyone she’s ever worked with, both at the theatre and at the bar. Felix does recognize several of Ingrid’s coworkers, though, and there’s a small mob of teenagers gathered together, laughing raucously – they must be her students.

And of course, there’s everyone in their close circle of friends. Dimitri and Claude are making their rounds and greeting the guests – separately, but Felix doesn’t miss the way their eyes keep flicking back to each other across the room. Glenn and Caspar are locked in an arm wrestling match at one of the tables along the wall, with Holst and Hilda looking on in great amusement, and Annette and Mercedes are talking with Dedue, Ashe, and Marianne by the refreshments. Even his father is here, chatting with Annette’s mother.

…The only person missing now is Sylvain.

Just as Felix is about to head to the elevator to look for him, a warm hand snakes around his waist from behind.

“Miss me?” Sylvain breathes into his ear.

Felix shivers, then groans in annoyance. Sylvain always uses his bedroom voice at inopportune times, and Felix always gets unreasonably affected by it, and it’s frankly not fair of Sylvain to rile him up like this when they have to stick around for four more hours, at the very least.

“You were only gone for ten minutes,” Felix grumbles, and removes Sylvain’s hand from his waist to take it in his own. He laces their fingers together and steps away from the warmth of Sylvain’s chest against his back – the less physical contact, the better, at least until his body gets the memo that he is, in fact, in a public space, and sex will not be happening anytime soon.

Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind – he just smiles cheekily down at Felix, like he knows _exactly_ how much he affects him. Infuriating.

“Well, you did wait for me,” Sylvain points out, swinging their arms a little.

“I did,” Felix admits. “You’re the one who likes socializing, not me.”

“Ooooor, hear me out, you just couldn’t bear the thought of not introducing _everyone_ to your wonderful trophy husband.” Sylvain’s voice is light and teasing, but there’s the smallest waver to it that betrays the same anxiety of last night. Felix _is_ curious, and a little concerned, but Sylvain hadn’t wanted to talk about it this morning, and now definitely isn’t the best time either.

Distraction it is, then.

“Hmm,” Felix says, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you so sure _you’d_ be the trophy husband in this situation? We’ve both got the looks for it.”

Sylvain promptly bursts into surprised laughter. “Felix,” he wheezes, “you are absolutely right. Why limit just one of us to the title when we can both be trophy husbands together?”

Satisfied that all traces of nervousness have left Sylvain’s voice, Felix smiles. “I’m always right,” he says, then points their joined hands in the direction of the nearest group of guests. “Shall we, then?”

Sylvain squeezes his hand. “We shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are <33333
> 
> Find me on twitter - [@nearlynemaria](https://twitter.com/nearlynemaria)


	2. PDA

Unsurprisingly, Sylvain knows almost all of the guests, and slides into conversation as easily as ever with the ones he doesn’t. He enthusiastically introduces Felix as his boyfriend over and over, probably blinding everyone with the brilliance of his smile, and tells so many different stories about Ingrid and Dorothea that Felix starts to lose track of them all.

As for Felix – he just does his best to make a good impression, continually amazed at how effortlessly Sylvain interacts with everyone. It probably doesn’t matter if he completely butchers his speech at this point – he’ll have the whole audience mesmerized either way.

It’s likely only been a few minutes, but it feels like they’ve been chatting forever when the orchestra music finally swells, signaling everyone to find a seat.

Dimitri and Claude wave Felix and Sylvain over, having snagged front row seats for…all of their friends, it looks like, judging by the number of chairs they pass with an eyepatch placed next to each gift.

“Why do you have so many eyepatches with you?” Felix asks Dimitri once they settle in. 

Dedue’s on Sylvain’s other side, and has apparently taken on the role of collecting them, creating a neat little stack in his hand as the rest of their friends file in and pass the eyepatches down.

“To be prepared?” Dimitri shrugs, as if this is nothing unusual at all. “Claude said we should mark the seats, I didn’t know what else to use.”

Felix just shakes his head. He can’t imagine what kind of scenario Dimitri was preparing for that would require more than ten backup eyepatches.

Picking up on his train of thought, Sylvain leans over, putting a hand on Felix’s leg.

“Didn’t know Dima was into group pirate roleplay,” he murmurs into Felix’s ear. “What d’you think, Fe, have I been neglecting you in the spice department? Shall we join i-mmmph!”

Felix claps a hand over Sylvain’s mouth before he can go any further. 

He absolutely, 100% did not need to be thinking about Dimitri’s roleplay preferences right now, and also, how can Sylvain possibly think Felix is unsatisfied in the ‘spice department’?

Before he can voice any of these thoughts, there’s a sudden wetness on his palm, which means – Sylvain just _licked_ him?

“What the fuck,” Felix hisses, yanking his hand away.

Dedue looks over at them with a raised eyebrow, bemused. Felix ignores him, focusing on Sylvain – who is now shaking with repressed laughter beside him, turning red with the effort of keeping quiet.

It’s so absurdly cute that Felix’s irritation instantly disappears, and he can’t suppress a chuckle or two of his own. He wipes his hand on Sylvain’s dress pants, then leaves it resting there, suddenly wanting more physical contact.

“You are ridiculous,” he says, more fond than anything. “Also you’ve banned yourself from kisses until you rinse your mouth. Good job.”

“Hey, that’s no fair,” Sylvain whines. “You only shake hands with your right hand. I licked your left, which, unless you were doing weird things before I got here, should be as clean as hands ever are!”

That is…a good point, actually.

Something swells in Felix’s chest at the reminder of how closely Sylvain pays attention to him, and he instantly regrets suggesting a kiss moratorium. How else is Felix supposed to deal with Sylvain being himself – and all the feelings that come with it – if he can’t kiss him?

Certainly not by talking. Because what he’s feeling is _Fuck, I love you so much_ , but what comes out is:

“Do I even want to know what you mean by ‘weird things’?”

“Probably not.” Sylvain grins, sensing his imminent victory. “Sooo, does that mean–?”

“Fine, yes,” Felix sighs, already leaning in, and Sylvain meets him halfway – just as the music changes and everyone stands to watch Ingrid and Dorothea walk down the aisle.

The kiss is clumsy and awkward, and hardly counts as a kiss at all – Sylvain almost trips on the gift he left by his feet when he tries to stand, pulling Felix up with him, and they’re both smiling too wide for their lips to properly meet, and Hilda stage-whispers “Gross!” somewhere in the background, immediately shushed by probably Holst.

But it’s with Sylvain, and Sylvain looks so radiantly happy when they pull apart, and they’re at a wedding, and Felix suddenly realizes, with blazing clarity, that he would do anything to spend the rest of his life with this man.

So…it’s actually a perfect kiss.

It takes all of Felix’s self-control to pull away from the draw of Sylvain’s mouth and turn around to face the aisle, but after a heated moment of watching Sylvain’s gaze flicker between his eyes and his lips, he manages it.

Sylvain steps up behind him almost immediately, wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist and resting his chin on his head, careful not to mess up the intricate braids he’d woven into Felix’s hair that morning. 

Felix leans into him. He probably needs the support, anyway – he’s feeling a little lightheaded, heart still pounding fast, threatening to burst right out of his chest.

Logically, he’s always known he wanted to spend his life with Sylvain, but he’s never given much thought to the idea of actually getting _married_ until now – and it’s a little shocking how much he truly, desperately wants it.

Perhaps thankfully, Felix is startled out of his thoughts by the gasp of the crowd as someone comes through the doorway.

Ingrid and Dorothea? But the footsteps almost sound like hooves, and Felix can’t recall high heels ever making that kind of noise…

…Oh. It sounds like hooves because it is, in fact, Ingrid’s horse.

His mane is neatly braided and interspersed with flowers, and one of Ingrid’s students is leading him down the aisle, careful not to let him step on the flower arrangements.

“Holy shit,” Sylvain says into Felix’s hair, sounding like he’s holding back laughter again. “How did they even get Montey up here? Please tell me there’s a freight elevator.”

Felix shrugs. He’s not really a horse person. “Can’t horses go up stairs?”

“Well, they can,” Sylvain says, “But going down is harder than going up, and the staircase in this building is pretty steep. Don’t want to endanger your ringbearer, y’know.”

Upon closer inspection, Felix does see a small pillow resting on Montey’s back that must hold the rings. 

“Ingrid really did think of everything,” he says, amazed. “Though I don’t know why they didn’t just wait until spring so they could do this outside. Seems easier.” 

Sylvain hums. “Maybe they’d already waited long enough,” he says, voice low and soft against Felix’s head. “And they couldn’t stand going even one more minute without being married.”

Fuck. 

Felix knows they’re talking about Ingrid and Dorothea, but still – it’s like Sylvain has pulled all the tangled emotions straight out of his heart and straightened them out into simple words of truth. He feels so wound up, so certain of his feelings that he’d spin around and propose to Sylvain right now, if it wasn’t such an inappropriate time and place for it.

…Also, Felix realizes, if they’d ever discussed this kind of thing before. Which they haven’t, at least not directly.

Sylvain makes jokes about it every so often, like the ‘trophy husbands’ from earlier – but that hardly proves anything. After all, Felix has never even considered that the jokes could mean something more before now – it’s very possible that Sylvain hasn’t thought about it either.

And, more importantly, Felix wants to do this right. 

Sylvain deserves the kind of care and consideration that Ingrid and Dorothea have obviously put into this, trying to make everything perfect for each other, from the trip where they proposed all the way up until this very moment. 

But Felix doesn’t even know if Sylvain _wants_ to get married, let alone how he’d like to do it, and unfortunately he can’t read Sylvain’s mind, so…he’ll simply have to figure out a way to bring up the topic.

…It’ll have to wait until later, though, because the music swells and the guests cheer, and that means Ingrid and Dorothea have stepped into the aisle.

They’re walking hand in hand, alternating between beaming at each other and waving at the guests. 

Felix doesn’t know Dorothea that well, but Ingrid definitely looks more joyful than he’s ever seen her. He remembers she’d been unable to decide between a suit and dress, but she seems to have found a happy medium, looking beautiful in an asymmetrical dress cut high at the hip to reveal practical and warm leggings. 

Both she and Dorothea are in traditional light blue, and with the way the light hits them, they almost seem to be glowing.

Sylvain holds him a little tighter as Ingrid and Dorothea approach the wedding arch. “They look so happy,” he says, sounding a little sniffly.

“They do,” Felix murmurs. He reaches into the inner pocket of his vest and pulls out a small pack of tissues, pressing it into Sylvain’s hands where they rest on his stomach. 

Felix isn’t as good as Dimitri – he doesn’t have tissues, painkillers, allergy meds, eyedrops, bandaids, alcohol wipes, and apparently a ridiculous number of eyepatches on him at all times – but he does know that Sylvain gets a little weepy at events like these, and tries to prepare accordingly.

Sylvain thanks him with a kiss pressed into his hair just as Archbishop Rhea calls for everyone to be seated.

Ingrid and Dorothea stand hand in hand under the arch. The archbishop begins a rather long speech about the sanctity of marriage, the importance of love and loyalty and devotion, and how the newly wedded couple should treat their vows with the same reverence as if they were the words of the goddess. 

It’s not a bad speech, Felix thinks, especially coming from the archbishop – acknowledging the goddess but keeping the focus on Ingrid and Dorothea and the love between them.

Then, it’s time for the vows. Felix’s hand goes to Sylvain’s thigh before he even realizes what he’s doing, and in response, Sylvain scoots his chair as close to Felix’s as it can possibly get and slides an arm around his shoulders.

Ingrid’s vows are simple and filled with devotion – her voice doesn’t waver even once as she looks into Dorothea’s eyes.

Dorothea, of course, has written her vows as a song, and she looks back, signaling the orchestra, before unhooking the mic and standing before Ingrid once again. The music is achingly beautiful, and Dorothea’s voice even more so, her visible emotions infusing depth into every lyric.

“She wrote all of this herself,” Sylvain whispers into Felix’s ear, sounding a little choked up again. “Orchestral composition and everything.”

The gesture is getting to Ingrid too, it seems – she keeps bringing a hand up to wipe away happy tears as Dorothea sings to her and only her, never breaking eye contact.

When the song ends, the entire hall seems to pause in a reverent silence.

Then Ingrid and Dorothea are falling into each other’s arms, stealing a tight embrace before the exchange of rings. Encouraged by Ingrid’s student, Montey approaches the arch from where he’d been waiting off to the side. He accepts pets, praises, and an apple from Ingrid before Dorothea removes the pillow from his back, pulling the rings out from the loose stitches that held them in place for the journey up the aisle. They slide the rings onto each others’ fingers, say their final ‘I do’s, and then the archbishop presents them as Ingrid and Dorothea Galatea-Arnault, and the hall bursts into a chorus of whoops, cheers, and applause.

As the orchestra starts up a joyful, celebratory song, Ingrid spins Dorothea around, beaming, then dips her for their first kiss as a married couple, and the crowd cheers once again, even a few noisemakers going off.

Suddenly, Felix feels a hand on his cheek, turning his head, and then Sylvain is kissing him, tongue tracing his lips and delving into his mouth with such urgency that it steals all the air from his lungs. 

Everything around them fades away for a few blissful seconds – there’s only the warmth of Sylvain’s hands cupping his face, the smooth length of Sylvain’s tie that Felix uses to pull him closer, the softness of his hair as Felix runs his fingers through it, never able to resist touching the vibrant red waves. Sylvain moans into his mouth, and Felix _needs_ to be closer, darts a hand down to Sylvain’s waist to drag him into his lap, and –

“Ugh, get a _room_ , you guys!” Hilda interrupts them once again.

Sylvain pulls away to fall back into his own chair, flushed and breathless. “Sorry,” he pants. “Got a little…carried away.”

Felix isn’t sorry at all. “Remind me again how it’s any of your business?”

“It’s not,” Hilda says, irritatingly smug. “Just thought you might like to know you’re drawing some attention, is all!”

Even more irritatingly, she seems to be right. Most of the guests are focused on squeezing their way through the doors to the reception across the hall, but there are several stragglers who quickly look away when Felix turns his head in their direction. 

Ugh. Of course people can’t just mind their own business.

“It must have been a good show if even _you_ were watching us,” Sylvain says with an exaggerated wink.

Hilda rolls her eyes. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. I’m off to find Caspar, but there’s gonna be a crazy line at the bar if you two don’t get a move on!” She throws a wave over her shoulder as she walks away.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Sylvain pulls himself out of his chair with feigned effort. 

“She’s probably right, if you want to grab a drink before the speeches, Fe,” he says. “But I think I’m on first, so I should probably get ready.”

He does look pretty rumpled, tie askew and hair sticking up in all directions from Felix’s attentions, but really, why rush to fix it when Felix still wants to kiss him senseless?

“It’s fine, I’ll just come with you,” Felix says, eyes drifting to Sylvain’s lips without his permission. “No point in putting up with the crowd longer than I have to.”

Of course, Sylvain finds the innuendo in his words immediately. “ _Come_ with me, huh? We do have at least twenty minutes until everyone’s settled…I think I can arrange that.”

Sylvain’s tone is light and joking, as if he doesn’t believe Felix would really ravish him in the bathroom – and usually, he’d be right.

But Felix can’t stop thinking about touching him, kissing him, leaving marks on his freckled skin…because maybe he can’t tell Sylvain he wants to get married right now, but he _can_ show him, with his lips and his hands and his tongue, just how fervently he is loved.

“Then we don’t have a minute to lose.” Felix takes Sylvain’s hand in his own, leading the way.

Despite his expression of surprise, Sylvain immediately follows, a grin slowly spreading over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are <33333
> 
> Find me on twitter - [@nearlynemaria](https://twitter.com/nearlynemaria)


	3. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrified of calculating how many hours I spent on this chapter...hopefully it's worth the long wait!

Twenty minutes isn’t nearly enough time.

Felix knows this even before he starts dragging Sylvain into the nearest bathroom…and yet, seeing Sylvain’s incandescent smile and full-face blush at this turn of events still hits him in the chest like an oncoming train. It makes him want to drop everything to get Sylvain alone in their hotel room and spend the whole day – fuck, the whole _weekend_ – just kissing him and taking him apart, so soft and slow that Sylvain can feel the promise of a lifetime together in Felix’s every touch. 

Honestly, Felix isn’t sure it’s even possible to convey the same depth of emotion with a bathroom quickie, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

Thankfully, the goddess (or perhaps Ingrid and Dorothea’s wedding planner) is on his side, because the bathroom they finally stumble into is nothing short of decadent – Felix has never once considered the concept of a ‘romantic’ bathroom, but if there ever was such a thing, this is definitely it.

It’s huge, pleasantly decorated, lightly scented with something fresh and floral, and fully stocked with what looks like an entire cabinet of toiletries and hand towels. There’s even a vinyl-cushioned chair against the wall that looks like it’s never borne the weight of anything heavier than a purse. But – most importantly for Sylvain’s comfort – it’s immaculately clean, and Felix almost sighs with relief.

“Holy shit,” Sylvain says, peering over Felix’s shoulder as they walk through the door. “Is this like…the _honeymoon_ bathroom? Or are they all like this?” He quickly closes and locks the door, then leans against it, pulling Felix to stand between his legs.

Felix snorts. “What the fuck is a honeymoon bathroom?”

“I don’t know, there’s honeymoon cars and honeymoon suites! Maybe it’s a new trend?”

“Hmm,” Felix says, distracted by the warmth of Sylvain’s thumbs rubbing circles into his hips. “Wouldn’t it be labeled or locked if it was specifically meant for newlyweds?”

“Probably,” Sylvain agrees. “But isn’t it more fun to pretend it _is_ a honeymoon bathroom?”

Despite his blush, Sylvain’s eyes look unusually serious for this kind of playful banter, and Felix feels like he’s missing some other, more important meaning behind the question. There’s no way to know what it is without asking though, and he doesn’t want to waste any of their twenty minutes discussing proper communication when he could be dragging all manner of delicious noises out of Sylvain instead.

So in lieu of a verbal response, Felix just leans in, cups the back of Sylvain’s neck, and pulls him down for a kiss.

This must be an acceptable answer, because Sylvain moans, rough and a little desperate, and suddenly his hands are touching Felix everywhere at once, lighting him up with their warmth even through his clothes.

It’s so easy to get lost in kissing Sylvain. He’s always so responsive, making these incredible noises and reacting with his whole body, and Felix can’t get enough of it – it’s not long before he’s dizzy, breathless, and straining against his pants from the way their hips press together every time Sylvain pulls him closer.

When they finally break apart for air, Sylvain is breathing hard too, his eyes dark and hazy, hair even more wild than before – Felix just can’t keep his hands out of it.

Sylvain must be just as wobbly with arousal as he is, because when Felix steps back to adjust their position, he stumbles and slides a little down the door without Felix’s weight pressing him up against it. That settles it – they definitely need to sit before going any further, if it’s going to be this intense. 

“Chair,” Felix says, when he’s regained the ability to speak, and pulls Sylvain towards it.

“Boooo, I liked you pinning me to the door,” Sylvain whines, but dutifully falls into the chair anyway.

“Pssh. You like me sitting in your lap, too.”

“Mmm. This is true.” Sylvain grins, pulling their hips together once Felix has settled onto his legs. The line of his cock presses against Felix’s, and they both gasp at the sensation, rocking together to chase the friction. “But to be – ahh! – to be fair…I like everything with you, Fe.”

Fuck. Felix can feel his cheeks heating up – as if he wasn’t already flushed enough from all the kissing and grinding and thoughts of getting married.

He drops his forehead to Sylvain’s shoulder. “…Me too,” he manages after a long moment. Or wait, does that sound like he’s referring to himself? “With you, I mean.”

Sylvain’s shoulder shakes a little as he chuckles. “I knew what you meant,” he says, nuzzling into Felix’s hair against the braids.

For a moment, Felix considers asking Sylvain to undo all the plaits so he can indulge in the feeling of Sylvain’s hands in his hair – but they don’t exactly have all the time in the world, and more than anything, he wants to make Sylvain feel good right now.

He should probably hurry up, though, before Sylvain insists on making him come first – his hands are already roaming down Felix’s back, cupping his ass and dipping under his waistband to untuck his shirt.

It’s probably not a good idea for them to get undressed right now, but Sylvain’s tie _is_ practically begging to be taken off, so…Felix supposes a little mussing of clothes is fine.

When Sylvain presses his palms into the bare skin of his back, Felix jumps a little at the skin-to-skin contact. His hands are so warm. Felix must run cold, because it’s always been like this – Sylvain touching him sets his veins alight, both with the blaze of desire between them and the slow and steady burn of comfort and trust.

Sylvain touching him also makes it very hard for him to concentrate on undoing this goddess-damned tie.

“Having some trouble there?” The smirk in Sylvain’s voice is obvious, but Felix’s eyes flick up to watch the twist of his mouth anyway.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” Felix grumbles.

“I mean. Isn’t the point of this to make things…hard?”

Well. Felix should have seen that coming.

Giving up on the tie for a moment, Felix wraps his arms around Sylvain’s shoulders and uses the leverage to grind into Sylvain’s lap…hard.

Sylvain breathes out a startled moan and drops his head to Felix’s shoulder. The noise shoots a bolt of heat straight to Felix’s cock, so he cants his hips again, making sure to drag their clothed erections together, and Sylvain bucks up into him, making a delicious strangled sound against Felix’s neck.

“Is that – hah – hard enough…for you?” Felix gasps.

“Mmmm…don’t know…” Sylvain says. “Might have to do it again…just to make sure.” He’s started kissing Felix’s neck, right above his collar, and Felix can feel the warmth of Sylvain’s smile against his skin.

So Felix does it again. And again, and again, and again, until Sylvain is panting hot and heavy in his ear and trying to still Felix’s hips with his hands.

“Goddess, _Felix_ ,” he groans. “Gonna come if you don’t stop – hah, _fuck_ – moving like that! _”_

Felix obligingly pulls back – as amazing as this is, Sylvain can’t exactly get up on stage with a huge wet spot on his crotch.

But invoking the goddess does seem a little ridiculous when Felix is only interested in devoting himself to Sylvain.

Truly, the only thing worth worshipping is the sight of Sylvain spread out underneath him, looking wrecked and ethereally beautiful. His messy hair looks like it’s glowing a little in the soft light, warm brown eyes dark with lust but still sparkling with affection. With the heady flush spreading from his cheeks all the way down his neck, and the heat radiating from him at every point of contact between them…well.

If someone told Felix he’d gone and fallen in love with the god of the sun, he’d believe them.

Fuck. Felix loves Sylvain so much, and he looks so incredible. Of course it’s only natural that Felix wants to suck his cock so badly his mouth is watering with it.

Sylvain opens his mouth, probably to make a quip about how long Felix has been staring, but Felix just cups his face and runs a thumb across his bottom lip, feather-light, and the words dissolve into a breath of surprise as Felix kisses him, soft and slow and sweet.

Tilting his head to mouth at the skin right below Sylvain’s ear, at the cusp of his jaw, Felix starts working at Sylvain’s tie again. It’s technically not _necessary_ for Sylvain’s shirt to be undone for a blowjob, but Felix wants to pay attention to every inch of skin on his way down, get Sylvain so worked up that he’ll lose his careful restraint and just use Felix’s mouth for his own pleasure until he’s coming fast and hard down his throat.

It’s just as difficult to focus as earlier – maybe even more so now that Sylvain is so flushed and noisy, moaning and squeezing his ass every time Felix scrapes his teeth or sucks a little harder on his neck – but eventually Felix manages to undo the tie and all the buttons on Sylvain’s shirt without tearing anything in frustration.

The struggle is absolutely worth it just to see how Sylvain reacts when Felix cups his tits, teasing the already-hard nipples with his thumbs. He arches up beautifully, almost off the chair if not for Felix’s weight in his lap, pressing into Felix’s hands, and his head falls back against the wall, mouth open and slack with a drawn-out moan.

Felix feels his cock throb at the sight. “So sensitive,” he says, not even trying to hide how breathless he is. “Sylvain, you’re so good, so beautiful…can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”

He presses a palm against Sylvain’s straining bulge to punctuate the praise, and Sylvain _keens._

“Ahh, fuck, _Felix_ –!”

“Good?” Felix asks, even though it obviously is. He lets his hands roam up and down, running his fingers through the curly red hair on Sylvain’s chest and squeezing at his waist and hips.

Kissing down Sylvain’s neck to find that sensitive spot above his collarbone, Felix laves his tongue over it until he can feel Sylvain’s pulse thundering into his mouth.

“So – _hah_ – it’s so, nnnngh, fuck! So good, Fe, please –!”

Sylvain tilts his head back and pushes Felix more firmly against his neck, gentle but with an edge of desperation. _Fuck_ …is he asking to be marked?

“Do you want me to –?”

Sylvain cuts him off before he can even finish the question.

“Yes _,_ _yes_ , Felix, oh fuck, Fe, I need – _ahhh_!”

With a sudden rush of possessive affection, Felix sucks the skin there into his mouth, worrying his teeth hard enough to leave a bruise, and Sylvain cuts himself off with a warbling, desperate sound that has Felix swearing and clumsily sliding off his lap.

If he doesn’t get Sylvain’s cock in his mouth right fucking _now_ , he might actually explode.

Felix stands just long enough to nudge Sylvain’s legs apart, spreading them so he can kneel between them, then drops down to unbuckle his belt.

Any other time, he’d want to take his time kissing and teasing his way down Sylvain’s body, but they’re both so wound up – not to mention probably holding up the reception party by now. As soon as the belt is off and Sylvain’s pants are undone, Felix buries his face between Sylvain’s legs. Nuzzling in to breathe in his scent, he starts mouthing messily over the line of Sylvain’s cock in his boxers.

Before he can go any further, though, Sylvain stops him, gently pushing him away.

“What are you –?” Felix starts to ask, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels.

But then Sylvain stands, still straddling the chair a bit awkwardly, and leans over to open the ridiculously well-stocked cabinet. He comes back to Felix holding an absurd amount of hand towels.

“Put these on the floor, Fe,” he says, voice still thick with arousal.

Felix cocks an eyebrow. Is he worried about getting cum on the floor or something?

“So you don’t wreck your knees on the tile!” Sylvain hastily clarifies at the look on Felix’s face. “Or, y’know, get cold. Cos it’s winter and the floor is probably freezing.”

He’s unbearably cute, standing there with his shirt hanging open and his pants unzipped, looking down at Felix so softly – somehow blushing even harder than before.

How can Felix _not_ want to marry this ridiculous, beautiful, considerate man as soon as possible?

Letting the wave of affection overtake him, he launches himself up from the floor, taking the towels from Sylvain’s hands and dropping them in favor of pulling him into a tight hug. Sylvain immediately wraps his arms around Felix too, latching on and showing no signs of letting go, even when Felix tries to pull back just enough to kiss him.

It’s really nice, as hugging Sylvain always is.

But unfortunately, they can’t stay in each others’ arms like this all day, and Felix has been hard for so long it’s starting to hurt a little – Sylvain can’t be doing much better, from the way his cock insistently presses against Felix’s stomach.

“Sylvain.”

“Mmm?”

“I love you. Now let me suck you off.”

Sylvain sucks in a sharp breath, ducks down to kiss Felix, then lets himself be guided back into the chair. “Fuck, yes – okay. You’re so good to me, Fe, I love you so much, can’t wait to feel your amazing mouth…”

He keeps babbling praises as Felix arranges the towels to provide sufficient cushioning. They aren’t neat by any means, since Felix dropped them and messed up the folding, but the haphazard pile still feels much better than the bare floor.

Feeling flushed with warmth and affection, Felix can’t help but nuzzle his face into one of Sylvain’s thighs as he settles back into position.

He wants to keep the soft mood going, make Sylvain feel just as loved as he does in this moment, so he takes his time pulling down Sylvain’s boxers. Placing gentle, wet kisses over each inch of Sylvain’s cock as it’s exposed, Felix breaks away every so often to drag his lips over the skin just above his waistband, reveling in how it makes him shudder and push his hips up against the touch.

By the time Sylvain’s cock is fully free, shiny from precum and Felix’s spit, he’s slid so far down the chair trying to get closer to Felix that he might actually be close to falling off.

Felix can’t blame him though – he wouldn’t mind being closer, too.

Usually, they do this on a bed – or at least a horizontal surface – so Sylvain can wrap his legs around Felix without worrying about gravity, or so they can lay side by side, pressed together in a more practical type of 69.

While those positions may not be possible right now, Felix is definitely willing to compromise. Pulling back for a moment, he taps the underside of one of Sylvain’s thighs.

“Ahh, why’d you…stop…?” Sylvain gasps, too far gone already to catch the meaning of the touch.

“Lift your leg for me?”

Sylvain does, and Felix slides his shoulder under it – adjusting them both so Sylvain’s draped over him, but still secure on the chair with his other foot solidly on the ground.

Perfect,” he says, and dives right back in to lick teasing stripes up and down Sylvain’s cock. He takes it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the head to taste the salty dribble of precum.

Sylvain shudders – first at the praise, and then at Felix’s tongue – and _fuck_ , it really is perfect, the way Felix can feel his reactions like this. Every twitch of Sylvain’s thigh against his neck stokes the heat in his core, and he moans, throbbing and leaking in his pants.

Even before they got together, Felix knew how expressive Sylvain’s voice was, but it’s always just as satisfying to listen to his body – Felix could spend forever just paying attention to what movements make him tense up and squeeze Felix closer, finding the perfect amount of suction on the head of his cock that makes his whole body shake as he wails in pleasure.

“Ahhh, fuck! I’m – hah, _yes,_ that’s – s-so good, Fe, ngggh! ‘M close, love…”

Fuck, the _noises_ Sylvain’s making. He’s so responsive, gasping every time Felix moves his lips, shaking and moaning whenever he sucks on the head of his cock or tongues the slit. Felix loves it. Sylvain’s always loud in bed, but to get him like this, so lost in pleasure he can barely form words? It fills him with awe every time – and maybe a certain kind of pride, too, at being the one to make Sylvain feel this good.

Keeping up a rhythm with his hand, Felix pulls back just long enough to grab one of Sylvain’s hands, guiding it to the back of his head. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Sylvain’s eyes go wide and his fingers clutch at Felix’s hair. He swallows hard and nods, so Felix drops his head down to take all of his length in one slick slide, swallowing again and again.

“Ohhhh, yes, oh _fuck_ – Felix, yes, ahh, ahhhh, _ahhhh, Fe!_ ”

All at once, Sylvain’s babbling and shaking and coming in hot spurts down Felix’s throat, the leg over his shoulder tensing and releasing with the waves of his orgasm – and then Felix is right there with him, only needing one firm stroke of his dick through his pants to lose himself in the feeling of Sylvain all around him and inside him and so incredibly, perfectly warm.

Dazed with the intensity of it, Felix slumps down after a minute, releasing Sylvain’s cock and sliding his leg off his shoulder, then leaning in to feel Sylvain anchored against him. The mess in his pants is probably going to get uncomfortable very soon, but it can wait until he gets Sylvain cleaned up and ready for the speech.

If he can ever move again, that is.

Once Felix can finally open his eyes, he takes in the sight of above him with a smile. Sylvain is splayed out on the chair, pants still open, head resting against the wall with his eyes closed. His chest is beautifully flushed, still rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Dragging himself to his feet, Felix leans down to kiss softly over Sylvain’s heart.

“Good?” he murmurs.

Sylvain groans.

If he’s still too overwhelmed to form words, Felix supposes he doesn’t really _need_ an answer – but he’s still pleased when Sylvain cracks an eyelid a moment later and rasps, “Holy fuck, Felix.”

Felix chuckles, dumping the hand towels from the floor into the wash basket. He fetches two clean ones from the cabinet, soaking one with warm water in the sink before kneeling in front of Sylvain once again.

“That was – goddess, Fe, that was so good my mind literally went blank for a minute,” Sylvain says. “Thought I was gonna have to go out and apologize to the guests for forgetting my entire speech.” He cups Felix’s cheek, eyes dancing with amusement and affection.

Turning his head, Felix kisses Sylvain’s palm before focusing on gently cleaning his softening cock, drying him, and tucking him back into his boxers. “Ha. You’d still have to come up with something to say though. Ingrid would kill you if you didn’t at least congratulate them.”

“Alright, fine, you have a point…I guess I’d just have to bust out my Srengi and be like, ‘Sorry, the love of my life just sucked my mind and soul out through my dick and I no longer know how to speak Fodlani, bye!’”

Felix snorts. _Love of his life,_ huh? He…could definitely get used to Sylvain calling him that. “Your multilingual talents are impressive, but somehow I don’t think Ingrid would be too happy with that, either.”

He fetches Sylvain’s tie from where it dropped to the floor and loops it under his collar, then starts to re-button his dress shirt, reluctantly covering up the lingering blush on his chest.

“Mmm, my multilingual talents, huh?” Sylvain hums, letting his voice drop low and seductive as he watches the movement of Felix’s fingers. “Speaking of tongues…can I take care of you? Wanna make you feel that good too.”

“You already made me feel good,” Felix says. “But if you want to make this easier for me, you can stand up.”

“Fe, you know that’s not what I meant,” Sylvain says, sighing.

They stand up together, and Felix tucks in Sylvain’s shirt. Before Sylvain can turn the full power of his persuasion towards the goal of getting Felix off, he grabs Sylvain’s hand, pressing it against his crotch where the wet evidence of his pleasure is most obvious.

“Actually, I do know what you meant,” Felix says, unable to stop his grin as he watches Sylvain’s mouth go slack in awe.

“Fe – you –? Oh, fuck…that’s so hot. Did you even touch yourself?”

“Only once.”

Sylvain moans – actually _moans –_ and drops his head to Felix’s shoulder, squeezing at his waist. “You realize this only makes me want to touch you even more, right?”

“You can touch me as much as you want when we’re back at the hotel,” Felix says. “But for now, let me do your tie. And fix your hair, it looks ridiculous.”

His voice is so soft that ‘ridiculous’ comes out sounding like a compliment – which Felix supposes it technically is, coming from him. Sylvain seems to think it is too, grinning wide into the fabric of Felix’s shirt before shuffling them over to the sink without ever letting go of his waist.

While Felix works on his tie, Sylvain wets his hair, fluffing it up with his fingers to get it back to ‘artfully disheveled’.

“How’s it look?” he asks, after Felix pats his chest to indicate he’s done with the tie. “No, wait, it’s definitely missing something…I’m gonna do the thing.”

His smile has turned absolutely devilish, and Felix only has time to half-heartedly groan, “Ugh, please don’t…” before Sylvain steps back and shakes his head violently, spraying droplets all over the bathroom and Felix like a wet dog. The worst part about it is that it _works_ , giving the tufts of Sylvain’s hair their signature gravity-defying vibe.

“I’m holding you responsible for getting me wet in multiple ways, now,” Felix grumbles.

Sylvain’s eyes darken, automatically dropping to the wet spot on Felix’s pants.

Eager to clean Felix up as always, he almost dashes over to the cabinet to fetch more towels – but once he turns back to Felix, he’s schooled his expression, replacing the enthusiasm with something coy and seductive.

“Is that so? However shall I make up for such a transgression?” Sylvain purrs, running a single finger under Felix’s waistband.

Even though it’s just a game, the rumble of his voice still makes Felix shiver.

This isn’t the best time to do the whole flirty butler/haughty lord thing the way they usually do, especially since it often results in another round of sex…but today _is_ a day for indulging Sylvain, Felix supposes.

He clears his throat, trying to make his voice cold and disdainful to match the character – a difficult feat when he’s feeling so soft and affectionate.

“Is ‘taking responsibility’ not clear enough for you?” Felix snaps. “Clean up the messes you make. And be _thorough_ , unless you wish to face the consequences.” When Sylvain’s eyes light up – even as his face and body language stay the same – Felix knows it was the right choice to play along.

“Mmm, as you wish, my lord. Nothing would please me more,” Sylvain drawls, bowing deeply. He wets one of the towels under the faucet, then sinks to his knees before Felix and undoes his pants. 

Sylvain’s movements are gentle and deliberately thorough, and he occasionally casts his eyes up at Felix as if daring him to challenge the quality of his work. Felix doesn’t take the bait, though. It’s hard enough just to hold back thoughts like _I love you_ and _you’re so good to me_ right now – there’s no way he can stay in character if he’s anything but silent.

Thankfully, the dynamic of the game is soon broken when Felix stiffens at the brush of the cold, wet cloth against his skin, and Sylvain leans in to kiss his stomach in apology.

“Sorry, Fe. It has to be cold if you don’t want this to stain.”

“I know.” Now that he can touch Sylvain again, Felix has to stop himself from putting a hand in his newly styled hair, dropping it down to squeeze his shoulder instead. “I was just surprised, is all.”

Sylvain blots the fabric as dry as it can get, then stands again and brushes his lips against Felix’s forehead. “Oh good. I wouldn’t mind warming you up again to atone for this particular sin if we had time, but I’m honestly surprised someone hasn’t come to bust open the door yet.”

Felix shrugs. This has been worth every second of wrath they might endure from Ingrid or anyone else, in his opinion, but they probably shouldn’t push their luck.

“I’m sure everyone’s been sufficiently distracted by food and the bar. But yeah, we should head back out. You ready?”

“Do I look ready? Serious question.” Sylvain spins around, holding his arms out so Felix can check him for any lingering signs of their tryst.

“Yeah. You look good.” Felix confirms, giving him a small smile.

“You too. Though, you might want to leave your shirt untucked until your pants dry.” Sylvain smiles back, lopsided and soft, and squeezes his hand as they exit the bathroom.

The door leading behind the stage of the reception hall is on the opposite side from the guest entrance, so Felix pulls Sylvain down for one last kiss before they have to separate.

“You’re going to do great,” he says, once they pull apart.

Sylvain grins again, making Felix feel warm all over, even though they’re no longer touching. “Thanks, Fe. I love you. See you in a bit?”

Whatever nervousness has been plaguing him since last night seems to have completely disappeared – he looks relaxed and confident, and Felix smiles at the sight.

“Love you too. I’ll save you a seat.”

Sylvain departs, waving and blowing a kiss, and Felix squares his shoulders before heading into the hall, resolving to track down both Annette and Glenn before the end of the night.

…After all, there’s no one better to ask for advice on proposing than someone who’s already engaged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are <33333
> 
> Find me on twitter - [@nearlynemaria](https://twitter.com/nearlynemaria)


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